


sweet surrender (what a night)

by Duck_Life



Category: Star Trek: The Next Generation, Star Trek: The Next Generation (Movies)
Genre: Character Study, Data (Star Trek)'s Emotion Chip, Episode: s01e03 The Naked Now, F/M, Friendship/Love, Intimacy, M/M, Movie: Star Trek: First Contact (1996), Non-Graphic Rape/Non-Con, Sex, idk man. it's about sex but it's not necessarily a sexy fic ya dig, it's about love and trust and pain and friendship and more love
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-12-09
Updated: 2019-12-09
Packaged: 2021-02-26 07:47:04
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,100
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/21730027
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Duck_Life/pseuds/Duck_Life
Summary: Data designs the sexuality programming himself, just in case there's ever a need for it. And then there is.
Relationships: Data/Geordi La Forge, Data/Tasha Yar
Comments: 10
Kudos: 187
Collections: Star Trek Fics





	sweet surrender (what a night)

Data develops the programs during his time at Starfleet Academy, after he overhears two of his classmates complaining about men who don't "reciprocate." 

Sex and sexuality are subjects somewhat alien to him. They pose an interesting topic of study when it comes to his exploration of humanity, of love and lust and desire. Though he has never been romantically involved with anyone, he has not ruled out the possibility of future relationships. Should those relationships be sexual in nature, he wants to be prepared. 

A half-Vulcan classmate agrees to aid in his experiments. She, too, is curious about sexuality and how it pertains to synthetic beings. They fuck with precision, making comments and notes as necessary. She’s good at giving him straightforward, unbiased feedback about the effectiveness of the programs he has written. 

And she teaches him more about Vulcan sexuality, too. Data has no prewritten program for Vulcan eroticism, but he must admit he is intrigued by the way their hands slide together, the way her knuckles drag across his own. 

(At one point, T’Karik tells him she has begun dating a woman on campus, and it would be unfair to her partner for her to continue performing these experiments with Data. Data agrees, and they part on good terms.) 

  
  


* * *

  
  
  


His time with Tasha is unlike anything he experienced with T’Karik. “You  _ jewel _ ,” she calls him as she leads him to her bedroom. The majority of his processing power is here in the room with her, but part of it is delving deep in his wealth of knowledge and drawing out a definition:

jew·el  /ˈjo͞oəl/

noun:  **jewel** ; plural noun:  **jewels**

  1. a precious stone, typically a single crystal or piece of a hard lustrous or translucent mineral cut into shape with flat facets or smoothed and polished for use as an ornament.
  2. a very pleasing or valued person or thing; a very fine example.



Tasha guides him down onto her bed, and he is still thinking words like  _ valued _ ,  _ precious _ . "What can I do?" All his programming never prepared him for this, this uncertainty and spontaneity. 

"Be here. Be here with me."

His programming proves to be useful in this situation, but Tasha’s gentle instruction is invaluable. 

Tasha isn't his first, technically, but she is the first to want him out of something besides curiosity. She does not want a science experiment— or, to use an old Earth colloquialism, "a notch on the bedpost." She wants gentleness and joy.

She wants him because she wants him because she wants him. 

Data stays very still, as if moving or talking will disrupt this bubble surrounding him and Tasha. Her hand reaches up to cup the side of his face, and she looks as if she's deep in thought. 

"What are you thinking about?" he asks. 

She smiles. "You're beautiful."

(He sweeps that one long curl aside and runs his fingers through her hair— it is an action he saw once in a play. It makes her smile even broader.)

  
  


* * *

  
  
  
  


No matter who he becomes or how far away he gets, part of him is always still sitting on the edge of Tasha Yar's bed, watching her— 

  
  
  


(Kivas Fajo calls him  _ jewel  _ too— "The crown jewel of my collection." The word sounds different coming from him.)

  
  
  


She presses him up against the table where moments ago he was strapped down. And it's easy. And it's simple. He's just playing a part, so, so—

Her hand grazes the grafted skin on his arm, sending shivers across the damaged surface. "You'll be a work of art by the time I'm finished with you, Data," She promises. 

He tries to think of Tasha, but where she was kind and gentle— if enthusiastic and fumbling— the Queen is sharp edges and careful consideration and calculation, cold eyes and cold hands. 

He tries to go somewhere else, tries to put space between his emotions and his thoughts and his body. He imagines. He imagines he has been disassembled, and his body is separate from himself, and anything happening to his body doesn't concern him, and it's okay. 

He is fully functional, programmed in multiple techniques, and it's okay. 

Data is able to process a lot of information at once. He is able to divide his attention between complex mathematical equations, interpersonal interactions, time-sensitive tasks and historical recollections. 

He can bear Her hands on him if he can just make himself think about anything else. 

He does not feel precious or valued. He does not feel— 

He does not feel. (He feels too much.)

* * *

  
  


"You're sure?"

"Very sure," Data says. "And you, you are— ?"

"Definitely," Geordi says, grinning. He even got candles, real ones, to put around his quarters, and soft music drifts from the computer. Data cups Geordi’s face in his hand and spends a long moment just looking at him, admiring his smile and cataloging the way he looks in the candlelight. Remembering this. 

He kisses Geordi, soft and slow at first and then with more intensity, as his programming hums to life and mixes effortlessly with his emotion chip. Schematics and statistics merge with love and intimacy and attraction and— and he’s never experienced this before. 

Human culture tells him it is impolite to compare sexual partners, but he does find part of his positronic brain recalling his time with Tasha. The connection had been there, but at the time, he had not had the means of experiencing the emotions. 

This blend of familiarity and comfort and excitement is entirely new and he’s getting to share it with Geordi. 

In between kisses and touches, he says, “Geordi, I… I am so glad I am able to feel this.” 

“Yeah,” Geordi says. “... Me too.” Which hardly makes sense considering that Geordi has always had emotions, and Data considers arguing the point but he decides to let it go because Geordi’s hands are drifting downward and there are more important details that call for his attention. 

  
  
  


“Geordi?”

“Yeah, babe?” It is an antiquated term of endearment. Data has found himself quite fond of hearing it during the time that he and Geordi have been together. 

“Would you make fun of me if I referred to our activities as ‘making love’?”

Geordi laughs. “I don’t think I’m in a position to be making fun of you for anything, Data.”

“Then— do you want to make love again?”

“Oh, absolutely.” 

  
  
  


Data pauses a moment, just pauses a moment to take in the sight in front of him— Geordi with his mouth slightly open, his cybernetic eyes focused on Data. "What?" Geordi says. "What is it?"

"You are... beautiful."


End file.
